Scourge: A Grim Doyle Adventure

Chapter 23

Grim Doyle’s life was now in grave danger, more than it had ever been. He waited for the heat, waited to be burned to a crisp. He braced himself for the agonizing pain.

A sickening feel churned in his stomach. He winced. But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

Grim opened his eyes and the Jinn’s fire enveloped him, incinerating everything on the ground around him. Black and red flames danced along the ground, and all along his skin. Yet Grim felt nothing. He was still alive and not melting. He rolled over, away from the Jinn, and Sinistral’s single eye widened in shock.

“Impossible!”

Before Sinistral could respond a man in a white suit and cloak appeared in the clearing.

Grim froze briefly, unsure of what to do. They couldn’t possibly stand against two of them. He crawled across the ground as the white-cloaked one advanced.

He marched with a limp and a shiny wooden cane. He removed his cloak, letting it flutter to the ground. The man didn’t advance on Grim or Dorian. The man went after Sinistral, limping towards him with a determined stride.

He swiped at Sinistral with his cane and the black-cloaked Jinn shuffled back. Grim scooped up the woman with the umbrella as Dorian ran up beside him.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Grim nodded, shaking.

“How did you survive that? You should be dead.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered and checked his skin and clothing. All was normal, other than the mud on his garments.

“Come on,” Dorian said. “Let’s get out of the way.”

Grim followed him and dashed towards the edge of the trees while the two men fought with each other.

Thunder echoed from the ceiling as their canes struck. The man in white seemed to hide in Sinistral’s blind spot and attacked from such angles that the man in black had trouble seeing him. Their canes, alight with flame, sailed through the air, slicing at each other.

Then the white Jinn was knocked off his legs and he struggled to rise. Sinistral lunged forward and pounced on him. He tried to sink his fingers into the other man’s throat, but the white one rolled and swiped at Sinistral once more with his cane, slicing him along his face. It was a swipe that scratched the corner of Sinistral’s one good eye.

 The black-cloaked Jinn stood. He looked at his opponent, bowed his head, and then swiftly departed the clearing and the forest, his cane tapping the stone alley at a hurried pace.  

Then the white-dressed man turned his gaze towards Dorian and Grim. He retrieved his cloak, fastened it and limped towards them.

The Jinn studied them for a time before speaking. “We have not encountered your kind in some time.” His voice was soft.

Dorian stepped forward. “I don’t understand. Our kind?”

“Not your kind,” he said and then looked at Grim. “I am Arabus. Who are you, child, that you have summoned me?”

Arabus!

“My name is Grim,” he said. “Grim Doyle.” He offered his hand and the man took it with an amusing smile. “I didn’t summon you.”

“You are standing in the Mystics Circle and you summoned me with that device. Where did you get it?”

“It’s my Poppa’s,” he replied and held it behind his back.

Arabus chuckled. “No need to hide it. I have no use for it. What is your lineage? The Mystics are lost. Only the Darksworn are left.”

Grim pulled out the pocket watch.